Prince of Gotham
by Defender of the Dogma
Summary: "We can't hide him anymore." Dick's baby brother has grown to much to stay hidden, and must now be sent away on the river with the slim hope that somehow he might survive. But what happens if the evil king's daughter finds him? And raises the boy as her own? He might just become... A Prince of Gotham. Shamelessly based off one of the greatest stories of all time.
1. Chapter 1

**This is set in ancient times, just so you know. They exact time period probably become obvious soon enough.**

 **Disclaimer: I own what rocks dream about. This goes for all chapters.**

Chapter 1

"We can't hide him anymore."

Dick looked up at Bruce, his foster father, eyes wide with surprise. "Whadda mean?"

"Look at him. He's too old. 2 months already... we can't keep him quiet forever, Dick."

Dick looked down at the baby in his arms, and scrunched up his face. "Huh? Not hide him? But Bruce! He's... he's my brother... he's your son! And we don't have anyone to give him to; that wouldn't make the problem go away! What should we do, kill him?"

"Dick, we're slaves of the Al ghuls, and they're scared of us. There are too many Gothamites now. You know the order that's gone out."

"Yeah, yeah 'kill all the baby boys, leave none alive', that's why we're hiding Thomas!"

"We can't hide him forever. He'll be too loud soon. And what happens when he gets older? We can't bring him out from nowhere: the Al ghuls aren't stupid; they'll know where he came from. Then we'll all die. Thomas included."

"Well what should we do, if you're so smart? How do we save him?"

Bruce sat down beside his sons, serious blue eyes firm and anguished. "This is why we faked your injury; to get you out of work today."

Dick had been wondering about that. It wasn't time to leave for work yet, so Bruce was still here, but if Dick wasn't leaving he did need an excuse. As an 11 year old boy, he was expected to work in the slave yards with everyone else. Faking an injury was a risky move. You could get in a lot of trouble for something like that. There had to be some good reason to fake an injury today, and Dick was more than worried about what it was.

But he hadn't thought it would include Thomas, Bruce's only son by blood.

"There's no way to make sure that we can save him, Dick. But... maybe we can hope."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know I tinker around... make things. Well, I've come up with something small... a basket. It isn't airtight, but it is waterproof." Bruce lowered his head as if steeling himself, saying something that wrenched his heart from his body. In a way, it did.

"It's for your brother."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Why would I put my brother in a waterproof basket? Is it going to rain real hard?" Dick was scared, something was wrong, he was tingling all over, what was wrong...

"Your brother will need the basket when he's in the river."

"WHAT? That's just what Ra's al Ghul said to do! Throw the baby boys in the river! Why would we do that?"

"In the basket he won't drown."

"Oh, so he can starve. Much better! Good call, dad!"

"Dick!" Bruce reached forward and latched onto Dick's arms. "Dick. It's all we can do. We send him out. We hope for the best."

"There is no best. It's a river. There's drowning or wild animals. How could something good happen?"

"I've thought it through. There's no other way. No matter how slim, there's a chance things will work this way. I can't think of anything better. Now I can't get away, but you need to take Thomas and put him in the basket, and then you need to set him in the river. Follow behind: see what happens. Be back before curfew."

Dick gaped. "No... I won't leave my baby brother! I won't! We can hide him, we can, I promise!"

"For his entire life?"

"At least he'll have a life to live!"

"Dick, I'd do anything else if I could, but there isn't anything I can do. Thomas leaves today. Say... say goodbye."

There was a rustling from behind, and small faces inched hesitantly from the back room.

"You too." Bruce murmured at the rest of his children.

Jason (9 years old), Cassandra (8), Timothy (3 1/2), and Stephanie (3) moved forward bit by bit, eyes wide with fear.

"Little brother... leaving?" Cass's confused voice was strained with tears barely held back.

"Yes... I'm sorry Cassie."

The children moved forward, disbelieving and crushed. And Bruce's face was wet with tears.

* * *

Dick moved through the town, trying hard for normal. Which mean cowering at soldiers, lowered eyes, and hunched shoulders. It rather reflected Dick's mood, actually. If anyone asked to look inside the basket he was carrying... and saw it was a baby boy, an unlawful baby boy... Dick would die, Bruce would die, Dick's siblings would die...

It didn't bare thinking about.

"Boy, Gothie!"

Soldier.

"Git over here."

Dick did so, eyes on the ground. You never looked a soldier in the eye.

"Where you going, boy?"

"I've been told to deliver straw, sir, if it pleases you."

The soldier's eyes narrowed at this, it seemed he was in an unpleasant mood. He wrenched the basket out of the boy's hands.

"Give me that."

He tore off the lid.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Growling low, the soldier tossed the basket to the ground, backhanding Dick across the face. Dick landed in a heap, head striking the ground with hollow thud. He didn't get up.

Annoyed, the soldier stalked off. Dick raised his head slightly, watching his retreating form. Then he scrambled over to the basket. Brushing aside the covering of straw, he let out a sigh of relief at his little brother.

"Hey, Thomas." Dick murmured. "Good boy. That's a good boy to not cry." Gently he caressed the younger's cheek. Thomas had been told not to cry since birth, and was an exceptionally quiet baby. Also, he was probably in shock.

Dick just wished Thomas could be quiet forever, and then they could keep him and never ever let him go. But he had to keep moving. Replacing the straw, he resumed walking, when all he wanted to do was run. Finally, he reached the outskirts of the town.

It wasn't hard to get to the river. After all, the Gothamites did need water, even the Al ghuls recognized that. No reason to guard a river. Hopefully, no one would think anything if the saw him there.

Dick knelt in the tightly packed mud by the river, worn to something of a sandbar by years of footprints, and innumerable grains of sand.

Dick lifted the lid off Thomas's basket, and started pulling out the straw. Brushing the boy off, he picked him up, and rocked him against his chest.

"Tommy? 'snif' It's me... your big brother. Who loves you. I love you. I... I don't want to lose you, baby brother, but there's a bad king named Ra's, and he's scared that there's to many of us Gothamites in his dumb kingdom of Shadohs, so he's killing innocent little babies like you... so you have to go away..."

Dick sobbed, wrapping himself around his baby brother. "I need you to be okay, alright? I love you so much... and this is the only way to save you... just be okay. Then I'll be happy. I love you Thomas."

Dick gently placed his brother in the ingeniously woven basket, replacing the lid with shaking fingers. He took the basket into his hands, and reached out with it, tapping the water gently, feeling the tug of the stream against his fingers. Pulling his brother away from him.

His fingers tensed over the basket before he gave it a gentle shove, pushing the basket toward the middle of the stream, letting it float away with his baby brother helplessly inside.

Dick ran alongside the basket, pushing through the reeds that thwacked against his legs with a passion, feet pounding against the sand and mud. If anyone saw him he was a boy chasing a basket he'd lost: nothing to bother with.

There was a fork coming up in the river, Dick saw. But that was alright. The basket would probably go right, and Dick knew where that went. Left was a mystery, but that passage was so narrow...

The basket went left.

Dick gasped, and ran forward as fast as he could, jumping up on the opposite river bank. This path lead away from the town of Gotham; he had to catch Thomas and put him on the right path! But rivers are faster than little boys, and Dick couldn't seem to catch up.

Gasping, panting, he raced onward, until the basket drifted into a clearing. Dick forced himself forward, parting the reeds, before flinching back, crouching out of fear.

This wasn't Gotham anymore. This was Shadohs capital city: Lazarous. And that was Talia, princess of the Al gouls, daughter of Ra's himself. And she saw Thomas's basket. Dick suddenly wished he hadn't removed the straw.

"Handmaiden." Talia said, drawing herself from the water. "Fetch me that basket."

One woman moved to obey her, and Dick wondered what had happened. He hadn't known the palace was this way: how could he? He was a simple slave! The lack of guards hadn't been surprising: after all, who would assassinate a woman. They weren't in the line of succession, and it was 1200 BC. Females were nice and all, but they weren't men. No one would bother assassinating one, so no one bothered to really guard them unless they were queen, or something.

This may have been a princess, but she wasn't worth assasinating. So no guards. But Thomas! What would the daughter of Ra's al goul do to Thomas? Dick wanted to do something, but he was frozen in place, to scared to move. And anyway... what could he do?

The handmaiden drifted the basket to her mistress. Talia removed the lid.

Tired and confused and plain off fed up with everything, Thomas cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Talia picked Thomas out of the basket. She raised an eyebrow. Thomas cried. Dick thought he was going to die then and there.

"A Gothamite... boy." Talia contemplated. "Undoubtedly sent by some desperate family."

Talia pulled the boy closer and inspected, hawklike in her gaze. "Not newborn. At least 2 months old..."

Now, Talia resented the current structure of things. She was intelligent, a warrior, everything needed in a King, but she was a woman. And for that, she could never have the crown. But if she had a son… he could.

She had refrained from intimate intercource with men, finding none to be worthy of her. But here was this child, and it was one she would have no difficulty acquiring.

Were she to take a child from one of the higher, royal families, not only could they have relatives who would try to claim the baby, but others would almost inextricably be promoted by the child's success, rising to higher positions.

On the other hand, if she took this child, a Gothamite, no slave could claim rights to it. No slave could be elevated in status when the boy rose to kingship. It was perfect, and she should have thought of it sooner.

"I am keeping the child." She announced assuredly. "He shall be raised as my son. I name him Damian, because he shall conquer the world."

Dick's jaw dropped. What was happening? One of the princesses wanted to adopt Thomas? Damian now? What was happening? Dick's only thought, though, was that perhaps this was the only thing that could save Thomas. But if only he could have some more time with his brother...

"My lady... how will he be nursed?"

Talia looked to her handmaiden. The woman raised a good point. If he needed to be nursed by someone other than her (and she was not nursing a child: it was physically impossible and completely unacceptable) then that left Damian in far too unstable a position. Anyone could poison him, or he could grow attached to something that wasn't her.

And then a boy stepped out of the reeds.


	5. Chapter 5

**In case you hadn't figured it out yet, this is totally based of the story of MOSES. Which I do not own.**

Dick was terrified. But he knew this was the only thing that could save his brother. So no matter what, he had to help. Even if it might cost him his life. Line of succession or no, a Gothamite could be killed for approaching a royal princess.

"I know a family that could take care of him for you," he managed. "Until he's weaned, and all."

Talia arched an eyebrow at this newcomer. He didn't seem dangerous (Talia was a deadly fighter: most grown men weren't dangerous, let alone a little boy), and perhaps he had something she wanted.

The idea of letting a Gotham family have him for a bit pleased her. Even if he did grow attached to something there, he would leave Gotham shortly, and learn his duties as a royal prince. Soon he would learn proper protocol toward slaves, and any attachments would cease.

Also, if he was raised by Gothamites, particularly paid Gothamites, they would have no inclinations but to raise the boy in perfect health. After all, if they failed...what was one family more or less?

"I suppose I would pay such a family to wean Damian," she responded. "Could you fetch the leader of such a household, small one?" She could ask for the nurturer, of course, and most women probably would. But Princess Talia was not most women. The lower levels of the household could wait. It was only the leader who interested her: by the leader she would judge Prince Damian's safety.

The boy nodded vigorously. "Yes majesty." He was surprised, she supposed, at her quick decision. Well. Talia Al ghul was not one to hesitate. Besides, she knew exactly what she was getting into, and she was the complete master of the situation.

"Do it quickly, slave. I have not time to wait for you. And take this pendant, it bears my symbol: none will challenge you if you keep that."

The boy ran off, leaving the women alone with Damian, and Talia's dreams.

* * *

Dick raced home as fast as he possibly could, finally bursting through the doors.

"Bruce! You'llneverbelievewhathappenedcomequick!"

"Dick, what is it?" Bruce raced forward in an instant, face pale and drawn, fear etched across his features. Was his baby dead already? Had he signed the infant's death warrant? What had he been thinking?

"It's alright, Bruce! Princess Talia is adopting him! And she renamed him Damian!"

"Dick, what's wrong? Speak slower!"

"Nothing's wrong! Princess Talia found Thomas in the basket, and she picked him up, and said she wanted to adopt him! But she needs him to be weaned, and she can't do it, so I said 'I know someone who can do it', and she said okay! And now she's gonna pay us to take care of Thomas... or Damian now, but we gotta go to her!"

"The princess is adopting Thomas, and we're weaning him for her?"

"Yes!"

Bruce whirled around. "Cass, you're in charge until Jason gets back from the yard: inform him of the situation when he's back."

Cass nodded. Bruce ran.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"State your name."

"Bruce Wayne, your majesty."

"And the child?"

"Dick Grayson."

"Is he not your son?"

"I run an orphanage, your majesty. He was the first I took in."

"And Damian. He is of your orphanage also?"

"Yes."

"And you are going to wean him for me, until he is of age?"

"Yes, majesty."

"Very well. I shall pay you for this, and give the proper orders to ensure your safety and comfort as long as Damian resides with you. You may go now, I have matters upon which to attend."

* * *

"I can't believe how fast that was!" Dick exclaimed, walking home with Bruce and... Damian.

"Why shouldn't it be? They have spies everywhere, and can learn whatever they want. If we lied to them they could kill us instantly."

"Yeah." Dick admitted. "Do... you think she'll care about Damian's parents?"

"Not really. In an warrior based succession like this one, there are more important things that parentage."

Dick nodded. He'd been worried that if Talia learned that Damian was Bruce's blood son she'd be angry for some reason. He supposed, though, that as long as the boy was raised as a prince, and did all she required of him, then that was all she cared about. It wasn't like you could grow a perfect kid or something: that was all random chance!

Finally, they arrived home. Jason was back by now, and everyone was tense and nervous when Bruce, Dick and Damian came in the front door. Bruce gathered everyone around, explaining the situation. Eyes wide, the children took all this in.

"So..." Stephanie ventured, "Tommy Dami now. And Dami is prince?"

"Yes, that's right." Bruce murmured to his youngest daughter.

"What's he gonna be like as a prince?" Jason wondered. "Are we royal too now?"

"No, we're just taking care of him until Talia can raise him," Bruce sighed. "And Jason brings up a good point. Listen... Damian isn't going to remember us when he grows up. All he'll remember is being an Al ghul. And that's it. He's going to act like like royalty."

"So he's going to be some kind of Prince of Gotham?" Jason asked dubiously.

"He'll help them control us, help them murder, and destroy our lives. He'll be a Prince of Shadohs."


End file.
